


Love Me To Death

by AntonSweetie



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed: Odyssey - Fandom
Genre: Gods AU, Hades and Persephone AU, M/M, it's based on the underworld armor set and the fact thaletas has the best name, more characters will be tagged as they're written in, that second tag is kinda eh but it's close
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntonSweetie/pseuds/AntonSweetie
Summary: Thaletas lives as the god of Spring, taking care of the mortal realm and keeping them alive and thriving. Alexios roams the world as the god of Death, taking that which Thaletas makes and burning it until there's nothing left. When they meet, they find there's more to their world than they realize, and that perhaps even gods aren't above death. [Gods!AU]





	1. Prologue

Death was accompanied by fire. The funeral pyres and rampant destruction of nature after lightning struck were an offering to him. Every living thing lived to appease Death, from the smallest insect to the greatest god, if only to extend their time on this earth.

Spring was accompanied by flowers. Each step Spring took burst into life, singing praises and songs of gratitude for being brought into this earth. Every living thing loved Spring, for with Spring came life and change, and a hope for a new day.

Death and Spring never met. Their servants and messengers did quite frequently, during the clashing wars of winter and spring, but never their commanders. They were too important to meet individually. Should either aspect’s ruler fall, the world would be thrown into chaos.

Or so the stories went. The truth was, no one had seen Death for some time. “He rebelled,” the others gods said, lavishly draped in sunbeams and constellations, “He chose to leave, to spare us the sight of his impurity.”

Everyone believed those gods. The ones languidly stretched out on clouds, feasting on golden nectar from faraway lands no one had even created yet. They were the pinnacle of power and knowledge, separate from the mortal realm. No one would dare be foolish enough to deny their claims.

Yet, there was one mystery that Spring wanted to learn with his ever-growing curiosity. The mystery of the scorched handprint on the edge of the cliff, looking out over the mortal realm. He knew that War hadn’t created it - fire was something he honed for battle, not wasted. Knowledge hadn’t created it for much the same reason - they loved fire for what it showed about the world and wouldn’t dare use it to mark the mountain.

Spring knew not who created that mark. But he wanted to find out.


	2. Leonidas' 300

Spring had another name he went by. Thaletas. “Little Bloom” he called himself. He was one with his demesne, one with the blooms in the forest and the grasses around him. 

He stepped into the open field now red. Not with blooms that he made, but the blooms humans made. Blooms that came from their own bodies and life force that would last and stain until he did something about it.

Humans only ever made red blooms of blood. 

He squatted down next to one of the many anonymous bodies, careful not to let his pale green cloak touch the red blooms. With one hand, Thaletas closed the eyes of the fallen warrior in front of him and willed the fungi and rot to take root. This fighting - this war - was enough to bring the attention of the gods away from their spider silk garments and their fresh honey cakes. A single force of 7,000 versus an army of over twenty times that size? They were interested, at the very least.

Thaletas just wanted the fighting to cease so his children could feast. 

At the edges of his senses, he felt a scream. Walking lava, they cried, walking lava has appeared. 

He looked up, witnessing a cloud of fire and smoke stalked across the field. It was vaguely human-shaped, stopping by each of the bodies and pausing before moving on. Its spear - nay, its bident - was put together seemingly from the hottest metal it could find, eternally burning at the tips like it was perpetually in a forge’s flame. On occasion, it would stab the tip of the bident into a body, watching it with an expressionless hooded Italo-Korinthian helmet, similar to the ones the fallen were wearing. 

Only this being had no face. Between the metal existed only more fire. 

It turned to Thaletas, head cocked at an angle as it regarded him. It paid no attention to the writing body at the end of its bident, simply pulling the weapon out and returning it to its back. 

“You are one of them,” It spoke in human tongue.

When Thaletas gave no answer, it continued. 

“One of the gods.”

Thaletas bit his tongue. “Perhaps I am. Who is asking?” 

The figure straightened its head and stepped closer. Closer. Closer. Closer still. Closer until it was directly across from the body Thaletas was tending to. “I rule these battlefields. You don’t belong here.”

“Rule?”

With a sharp motion, it stabbed the tip of it’s bident into the body, burning away the newly formed fungal children. “Death rules war. Death rules life. This is my domain.”

Thaletas’ laugh peaked out of his lips. He stood up, nearly at the same eye level as the flame-clad figure. “Do you think only death can rule? After destruction comes life -- comes me.” His face fell into a stern frown, and from his hip he drew his short sword, emblazoned with thorns and other manner of dangerous plants. “I will not let you continue to destroy.”

“So you aim to kill me?” The figure slowly rolled its shoulders, “Not even knowing who I am?”

“It does not matter. I will not let you continue destroying what I’ve just created.”

“Funny,” it removed its helmet -- no, he. He removed his helmet. A male with a human face, though ashen veins snaked up his neck. The bags under his eyes betrayed what could have easily been centuries of living, had Thaletas not known better. Scruff covered his lower jaw and his hair frayed into singed dreads held together with pulsating beads of lava. This mortal man seemed to carry himself like a god. No.

He was a god. No mortal could survive the flames in his armor. That was the only explanation.

But he wasn’t a god that Thaletas recognized.

“Who… Who are you?” Thaletas pushed the tip of his sword against his armor, growling if only to hide his confusion. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Alexios. That is the only piece of me that remains.” 

Thaletas’ sword dropped just slightly. “What do you mean?”

He pulled back on his helmet, the flames overtaking his face and shrouding his expression in heat. With a sharp whistle, a horse made of burned lava and black stone appeared at his side. He hopped onto it bareback, not caring that the beast could have destroyed him if it so pleased. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Spring.”

In a heated, sharp gust of air, the male disappeared into the distance, leaving only scorch marks and cooling piles of magma in his wake. 


	3. Water Pools

Thaletas was fond of water. It reminded him of the life that teemed everywhere, even though he couldn’t see it. Fish that leapt, sharks that hunted, manta rays that floated like deep sea butterflies. Even deeper than them lived beings that seemed to exist as old as time itself.

For now, though, he was content to dip his feet into a small tide pool, lips curling into a smile. The little starfish and urchins crept up to meet him, and the tiniest of periwinkles curiously slid on up his bare toes. The sea life cared for him just as much as they cared for Barnabas - god of the oceans and tides. He was a bit more eccentric though, regaling them with stories and tales despite the fact they couldn’t understand him even if they wanted to.

Thaletas shook his head and dipped his hand in the water, petting a small moon jelly that brushed under his fingers.

It was peaceful here. Free of death and that horrible fire--

“ _Malakas_! Get off! Off!”

Or maybe not.

Thaletas turned and witnessed what was quite frankly the most hilarious thing he has ever seen in his entire immortal life.

The mysterious Alexios, screaming as he fought with a squid.

“I said, get _off_!”

“Alexios?” Thaletas drew himself out of the tide pool after apologizing to the creatures that missed him, jogging towards where Alexios was struggling with a quite irate (not to mention quite small) squid. It somehow got itself tangled around his ashen leg and was screaming to be left alone. “Alexios, stop! Leave it alone!”

Alexios, barren of armor for once, paused mid-shaking to stare at Thaletas. His entire body was made of ash it seemed save for his face. He stood, one leg outstretched with the squid hanging on for dear life and his arms flailing about for balance.

His jaw hung open, brown eyes blinking incredulously. “Spring? What are you doing here?”

“I’d ask the same of you, Alexios.” Thaletas dropped to his knees, hands lightly petting the squid’s mantle. “But for now, stop struggling. You’re going to hurt it.”

He clicked his tongue. “What, no questions?”

“Questions can wait until this child is back into the water.” Fingers gently pressed and prodded until the squid released its grip on Alexios’ leg, becoming limp in his hands. The poor thing was shivering, scared of whatever monster had appeared in its home and threatened its family. “It wants to live just like everyone else. We can talk later.” He stood up, carrying the squid back to water and letting it go into the tides where it belonged. He could hear the thanks and gratitude from the creature even as it swam back to its home.

“You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“And you shouldn’t be here.” Thaletas shrugged. “Probably, anyway. You seem very attuned to fire and last I checked, fire dislikes the water.”

Alexios crossed his arms, looking out to the sea. “You’re right about that. The water and I don’t agree. But I find myself drawn to it anyway.”

“Like a moth to a fire, so to speak.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” He turned back to Thaletas for a beat, only to face the warm blue sea again. “Lava to water is more apt. Moth to fire implies the moth can make a choice whether or not to fly close. Lava has no choice but to follow the curves of the land to its death in the water.”

He sat down next to Alexios, one arm resting on a bent knee. “But you could argue that the lava dies so the land can grow.”

A sharp laugh from Alexios, bitter and cold, shook his shoulders. “You are more right than you know, Spring. Far more right than you know.”

“I-- I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.” Alexios ran a hand through his hair and he turned back towards the cliffs, picking up pieces of his armor along the way. “I have to get going. Say hello to Barnabas for me.”

“Alexios, wait!”

He couldn’t get up in time to hold him back, and by the time Thaletas reached Alexios’ spot, he was long gone, carried by the dripping, pulsing magma mount once again.


	4. Bickering

Everyone knew the gods were prone to bickering. Through his whole immortal life - while short compared to the others - Thaletas couldn’t remember a time when they agreed on anything. Even something as simple as the color of the sky could be argued over for a millenia. 

“Stentor!”

“No, Brasidas!”

“You fool! Obviously Barnabas is the right answer. Have you ever tried to tame a shark?”

“Thaletas!” The god in question whipped his head up, attention suddenly forced away from the orange carnation he was growing in his hands. “What do you think?”

He raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that this was going to be possibly the worst conversation he had. “Of?” 

“Who is the most dangerous god among us?” Kyra plopped down next to him, a loose wooden bowl of wine sloshing onto the grass with her movement. “My money is on Nikolaos. Hangovers are the worst and I blame him. Because regrets.”

Thaletas frowned, the bloom withering into ashen rot. This kind of conversation never ended well and he preferred to be uninvolved at best. They would all bicker and bicker and nothing would be solved, since there was no right answer and no actions could be taken that wouldn’t end in humanity suffering instead. 

“I disagree, Kyra.” Herodotus knelt down next to the pair, his old eyes alight with what some would call wisdom. “I would argue that Thaletas is the strongest of us. Life is a powerful thing. It always seems to triumph even when everything is scorched. Not only that, but he is quite a capable fighter.”

Herodotus had a point. Thaletas found that his powers worked whenever he needed, even if the environment wasn’t suitable. He could bring life from anything anywhere. 

But he still found he had one thing that could stop him.

“What about Death?” He crumpled the ash in his hands and let it float to the ground. “I’d say he is the most powerful.”

“What? You mean Brasidas? You’re taking  _ his _ side?” Kyra pouted. 

“No, I mean… I mean Death. Endings.” Thaletas glanced around at all the gods, frowning deeply. In all his time, he had never heard of a god of endings. Alexios though… Alexios was the closest thing to that. All the fire and wanton destruction made it seem like that was what he was. A true god of death. 

When he finally focused back on Kyra and Herodotus, their faces were disturbingly pale for deities. She clenched his hand, threatening almost to tear it off. “We don’t talk about him.”

“Who?”

“Death.” Herodotus supplied, face drawn. “We do not speak of him. He left so long ago, Thaletas. He chose to leave us.” 

“So he does exist.”

Kyra smacked Thaletas’ shoulder. “ _ No _ , he doesn’t. Death left. That’s the end of that.” 

“But--”

“He  _ left _ us, Thaletas.” Even Herodotus, normally calm and collected had his brows drawn and hands folded in his lap tightly. “Is that not enough?” 

  
  


For Thaletas, it wasn’t. 

He wandered around, kicking stray rocks about with his bare foot. The gods lived above it all, high above the clouds. They had gardens and flowers and fountains of honey whenever they desired. Alcohol was abundant enough to satiate even Kyra herself. They had everything. 

Yet he was still unsatisfied. He knew Death was out there now. Death left -  _ true _ Death left, anyway - and Brasidas took up the mantle. Brasidas was not nearly as terrifying or imposing as Alexios. Brasidas was tactical, methodical. He took lives in war and ruins. He wasn’t the senseless death that humans saw. If anything, Alexios seemed to fit that better.

As Thaletas neared the edge of the mountain side, he sat down with his feet hanging off the edge. A soft, warm breeze carried from behind him, warming his body enough to relax him. This beautiful world they had was nothing compared to the world the humans lived in. Humanity fought and scrabbled and held onto life with every bit of their power. They were beautiful, in that regard. They were beautiful and lively and scared of endings. Of Death. 

He set one hand down to balance himself. His eyes flitted to his palm when he felt the soft texture of the dirt change into something more familiar. 

Scorched lava. 

Thaletas raised his hand. 

Beneath the soft dirt was a messy, desperate half of a handprint, fingers facing toward him. They were spread out, each digit dug into the earth and leaving points where the nails clawed in and tore up what they could. Thaletas’ heart rammed faster and faster as his mind worked to piece together how something like this could have been created, how a hand would be facing towards the safety of the land, not towards the end of the cliff. 

He could only find one answer.

_ The handprint of someone who was holding onto the cliff’s edge for dear life. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to everyone in the Odyssey discord for helping me work out the kinks in this fic!


End file.
